ess him particularly on any important
subject, "you had better try anither tack wi' the pilot. That won't do.
He's a proud, high-spirited fellow; he'll no stand ony nonsense."

"He may sit it, then. I'll treat him as I please."

"Then he'll leave you to navigate the St. Lawrence alone."

The Captain shrugged his shoulders, and said nothing.

"Let me ca' him back to the table, and apologise."

"Call him back if you like; but, d---- the apology!"

"I'll mak' it straight," cried Collins; and, leaving the cabin, he soon
returned with the Frenchman, followed by Sam and the sea-pudding, who,
placing it before the Captain with a most impressive air, looked
triumphantly across the table at Mrs. Lyndsay.

"A nice piece of duff that, Sam," said Boreas, striking his knife and
fork into the fair sides of the jolly white pudding.

"Wery nice, Sir," responded Sam.

"This your manufacturing, Mrs. L.?"

Flora shook her head.--"I was not going to disgrace the national dish by
compounding it of such materials."

"You have been stingy of the plums, Sam. They are scarcely within hail
of each other."

"He should have told the cook to whistle while he was picking them,"
said Flora, laughing. "I gave out plenty for a large, rich pudding."

"I'll help the youngsters first," said Boreas, handing a large slice to
James Hawke; "boys love duff."

The first mouthful was enough for poor Jim. He made a horrid face, and
pushed back his plate.

"Hey! what's the matter with the lad?"

"Oh!" said Jim, hurrying from the table. "I shall never be able to eat
plum-pudding again."

The pudding looked so clean and nice, that Flora was tempted to taste
it. She no longer wondered at the boy's disgust. It was made with rancid
fat, bad water, and boiled in the sea-brine. To a stomach unaccustomed
to such dainties, it was unpalatable in the highest degree. Yet the
Captain, Mate, and Pilot ate of it, and pronounced it excellent.

"I knew how it would be," said Flora; "and yet I am baby enough to be
disappointed at the result."

"The child has quarrelled with its pudding," said Boreas, "and left more
for us. It's an ill wind that blows no one any good."

"Pray don't call it my pudding, Captain. I disown it altogether. There
is nothing English about it."

Hannah, who had recovered her health and usefulness in a miraculous
manner, since her master's quarrel with the Captain, at any rate showed
an English appetite while discussing the execrable